The priests of the gods whom I called They blinded us all Why do I have to see the coming Makes me feel like a motherless child? Why do we have to die? Oh please, tell me why Mama, you wiped my tears and swallowed hard, But I lost the warmth in my heart. My fingers numb with cold Caress your bloodstained grave. The buds of the whispering voices unfold They try my soul to deprave Thus the end will come Prophecy will not be thwart Thus the end will come Thy blessing will be my port Murmuring waves hugging my mind Kissing my heart, killing my soul Trees bent under the north wind Soon I will reach the end of my stroll Mankind so often tortured by the rod I condamn you for not hearing me And you, father of the gods you are the most disguised on the tree The fear of today, Will be gone away.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
